


Heal

by AzulRoma



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Healing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, dealing with grief, learning how to cope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29021775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzulRoma/pseuds/AzulRoma
Summary: Devotion told through the pain swallowing their hearts; a display of love through the act of cleaning each other's tears.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	Heal

The rain outside was fitting.

Her throat felt raspy and dry; swallowing was suddenly a taxing task to take on. She swallowed her tea anyway, because she had to be polite and Elena really had been so nice to offer. Bonnie was sitting across from her, and her smile said it all: the tea was not as good as it could've been, and yes, she felt sorry for Caroline as well.

There was a strange kind of beating in her muscles, a predecessor for the ache that would surely follow. As if she had been up all night engaging in straining physical movement. And she hadn't been. She'd fallen asleep crying.

The clock struck six, on the dot. It kept ticking. The minutes wasted away. And the sound, it marvelously moved her back to the hospital bed, and the monitor and its heart-wrenching beeping. The way it had suddenly stopped.

The clock kept ticking.

"It's time, Care." Elena said, or more like announced to the entire room. It was just the three of them right then, but she couldn't bring herself to pretend like she didn't know there were three others in the room next.

She stood from the chair; all comfort left her. The Gilbert house was miraculously still standing. Damon had prevented Elena from burning it all down back when they all had thought Jeremy was dead and gone forever. Caroline did take something away from this train of thought.

Elena had turned her humanity off soon after Jeremy's body had been buried. She had gone insane and turned borderline sadistic. And it had appeared to all of them that Elena had, in fact, stopped caring about anything and everything. Still, Caroline harboured doubts: would switching it off really take _all_ of the pain away?

 _Would it help?_ If even a little.

Bonnie opened the door for her, the smell of rain hit her senses. Her ears opened, her eyes got rid of the dark smudges in the corners. She looked down at her close-toed heels, her sensible stocking, the floorboards of Elena's front porch.

When Caroline looked up again, there were the Salvatores, and Alaric, and Jeremy and Matt. All of them in matching matte black suits. Shoes flared to perfection. She offered them all a thin smile in gratitude.

Bonnie and Elena linked their arms with hers on either side. They pulled her along, carried her. She felt as if they were taking all of her body weight with them; they made her float. It was momentarily easier to breathe.

She hadn't had the time to notify a lot of people, but she was sure the church would be full and overflowing. Tyler wouldn't be joining, she knew, but only because he'd been unreachable for some time. He was, according to his last text, seeking out some peace of his own. Caroline hadn't even bothered to call, she had been certain he wouldn't answer.

Tyler wouldn't have looked as nice in one of those suits. She preferred not to have a memory of him on this particular day, honestly. He was awful at comforting; words often betrayed him.

In the car, Stefan sat next to her. His hand was placed on her thigh. A soothing movement of his thumb. She closed her eyes, and tried to lessen the wells on them.

She wouldn't cry today. She had to be composed today. Last night had included an appropriate amount of tears, and she decided not to allow herself any more.

Caroline concluded it was best if she thought she would be _hosting_ today. Some kind of event, with dozens of people. Kind smiles and pitying eyes not committal to the image, of course. She would take her spot at the entrance and greet the guests, as she would in any formal town's event.

A rather poorly weathered Founder's Mixer. _That was it._ She could get through the day if that was all it was.

She opened her eyes, and found Damon's blue ones eyeing her through the rearview mirror. He was driving, and in a way, he would be directing today's events too. He had been promised a eulogy and she was more than happy to give it to him.

It was one less thing she had to stress about. For once, delegating was a welcome delight.

When the car stopped, people were already gathered outside the church. Deep breaths were taken. Stefan helped her out of the car. She thanked him with a squeak of a voice; it would crack if she wasn't careful enough.

A clash of uniforms, tasteful black dresses and well-pressed suits. A questionable tie here and there. All in all, Caroline was sufficiently capable of drowning out the sounds of grievances and wishes for her soon recovery into society.

"Oh, but she really was the best of us." One lady said to her ear as she hugged Caroline. It made her ankles feel weak.

"She was." She agreed, with a smile that showed teeth, and therefore was the best impression she'd given of stability all day.

So she stood and she smiled and she thanked people for coming. She listened to shallow praises and compliments. She took the _sorry_ 's like a punch to the gut; each one numbed her even more. She wanted to die.

Again. Or forever. Make it _definite_ , she thought.

Caroline sat at the front, a gigantic golden cross glared at her from behind the altar. The priest started talking, he had quite the speech prepared too, she noted. It was all about courage and chances taken, and the frailness of life. How to make it all worthwhile: a family, a purpose and faith in all things scarce.

"...And the people in here today are only testament to the vast amount of love and kindness she shared…"

Rain echoed around, hitting the stained glass of the windows. She blinked up to watch the beams on the ceiling. Natural wood, perfectly detailed on the edges. The tops of the walls connected with delicacy, almost tricking you into believing there never existed a divide in the first place. Architecturally, near perfection. This building could last for ages if luck was on its side.

Damon stepped to the front. Elena's fingers entwined with hers. Stefan's hand had resumed its place on her thigh. She wasn't alone, yet she was hurting still. It would take a while, they said, for the normalcy to resume. She wasn't sure if she was up for waiting anymore.

Caroline could be patient and forgiving, but she was afraid this was much beyond her. Her mouth went dry as she heard Damon's hoarse voice crack; he cleared his throat quickly and went on.

"She was a friend to all of us. She stood by us, refused to let the bad parts frighten her off the good…"

Caroline felt herself nod, but it was as involuntary as breathing at this point. Non-verbal responses were certainly a way out of having to think much. As a rule, she always thought before she spoke, as a part of the personal growth in herself everyone had been so fond of in high school.

When it was over, the deputies stood. A chorus of voices said something, announced it to the whole room. It was mostly muffled to her ears. They saluted in perfect unison.

Silence.

She almost stood and clapped. For this had mostly been a show, an acting exercise to last for the rest of her life. A small smile to Stefan again, who apparently couldn't fathom the idea that Caroline could stand on her own, or get out of cars by her own means. His hand was on her shoulder then, and he squeezed tightly.

He left to find Damon, and she supposed that was her answer. They were friends, and they _would_ be friends. And all of it, it felt trivial at this moment. Stefan was using non-verbal responses as a sneaky way out as well, she could understand.

Bonnie and Elena started ushering her out the church, her feet halted. She wanted a moment alone. They nodded and gave her a kiss on the cheek each. Their heels cackling all the way out into the street.

The rain was stronger, if the intensified tapping on the glass could be believed.

Few people remained on the outlines of the room. She dragged her feet to the front, to the casket. She felt like she was preventing a choking sound from coming out her mouth, perpetually so. It hurt.

No. It _destroyed._ It _crumpled_. It _incinerated._ Everything that was left. It was gone.

She considered it again... _would it help?_

She was sure, turning her humanity off would only make it worse in the long run. Her friends, she didn't want to make them go through hell again, like with Elena. She didn't want to make herself a burden, or more of one than she already was.

Yet, it hurt.

When she looked down at the pale face inside the coffin, she could almost recognize the eternal smile on her lips. That one she would give Caroline when she was annoyed, but had been cursed to bear those quirked-up lips for a lifetime. And the lifetime was up.

The shade of blonde of her hair was darker, darker than Caroline's, at least. The blue of her eyes had been lighter, and warmer too. Her skin, damaged by sun and time, yet still enviably perfect. _That_ was the word: _perfect._

Liz Forbes had been perfect. In the most utterly flawed way. And she was gone. Her mother was gone; she closed her eyes.

The warmth of her mother's arms around her, her lips pressed to her temples. The melodic sound of her voice, the strength of her scolding. The way her teeth shined with her smile, the playful roll of her eyes. The smell of her perfume and the beating of her heart when she held her.

All was gone. Caroline opened her eyes and walked away, headed toward the door.

Bonnie and Elena waited outside, pressed to the frames and on the edge of the landing. They were attempting to avoid the droplets of rain. Their shoes were wet, almost soaked. They smiled at her when she joined them.

Stefan and Damon were standing on the sidewalk, talking and holding umbrellas tightly with their hands. She breathed in and out.

"Do you really want to go?" Bonnie asked loudly over the swooshing sound of rain and wind colliding.

Caroline stared at nothing for a second. The Mystic Grill had, somewhat, offered to host a small reception. Matt and the others were surely there by now. More people for who to perform.

"Yeah. Let's go." She started walking down the concrete stairs.

Stefan quickly caught on to this and rushed to her side, covering her from the rain. She shook her head at him; she walked past him.

Subtle splashes of water on her nose and forehead. Her hair quickly disarranged. The black of her dress became more so intense. Her heels were quickly ruined. She opened her eyes to find her friends watching her, faces blank, as to not betray the clear concern behind their eyes.

Nobody said anything about her wetting the leather seats of the car. She thought, maybe, she wanted to let a genuine smile pop through. She'd never been one to relish on chaos, on anything that could potentially ruin her appearance, but she did enjoy letting the rain wash away her perfection.

That was _not_ the word for her. She wasn't very into delusion, for one.

Bonnie let her head rest on her shoulder, then she whispered, "We're here for you."

Caroline nodded. "I know."

It hurt. She couldn't let herself smile, truly. She couldn't breathe without feeling like her throat was burning from the inside. She couldn't ease the pressure on her chest, or the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

She was not alone. She could go through the rest of the day just like she had so far. She was strong.

The Mystic Grill was full. More unwanted hugs she had to stand through. More unflinchingly rehearsed words of support. Promises to drop by, offerings to go out for lunch and dinner and even, "You can spend Christmas with us if you like."

The universe wasn't so unkind, for there was a bar. The bartender wasn't so keen on checking for ID, though she was only months away from turning twenty-one. Ah, and it was on the house, he said. To this man, her words of gratitude were entirely sincere.

Bonnie and Elena stood by her side the whole time. No drama to speak of, they did push aside their own issues for the day. Caroline felt special. She felt protected, and loved. Even with all the pseudo-strangers in the restaurant, there were dear friends as well to keep her company.

Stefan bought her a meal, a pasta dish that she swallowed with grand amounts of wine. Damon bought her one last drink, aged scotch that she knocked back in one gulp before she realized it was a _sipping_ scotch. Her friends said nothing as she stumbled back to the car.

Elena insisted she stay over in her house, but Caroline assured her she would be alright on her own. And after much argument, her friend finally ceased and then deposited her safely inside her house. When Caroline heard the engine drift away, she let out a heavy sigh.

The feeling of being completely alone for the first time in two days was overwhelming. Her actoral duties were over. She could say anything, do anything. Scream, and cry and spit her anger out. She could kick the furniture, break glasses and plates. She could throw herself to the floor and curl into herself. She could act how she felt.

Caroline _couldn't_ do it. The forced numbness had stuck. She stood there, in her living room, eyeing photos and her mother's favorite chair, and the blanket she had left on the couch before they had to leave for the hospital. She found she couldn't rid herself of the act.

Her knees buckled, and she let her body drop to the floor. Gently, and with caution. Like a choreographed step. The carpet was soft on her fingertips. The coffee table in front of her had rims marked on the top. Her mother would've had a fit had she ever seen those.

Her mother would've done a lot of things, had she had the time. Caroline could've said a lot of things to her; shown her how much she loved her so many times over. But, the truth remained, Liz was gone and with her, words and chances.

A part of Caroline with them, too.

There was an unopened bottle of gin with the books on the shelves. She stood to look for it. Her head was buzzing, if only slightly. She wanted it to _spin._ Wanted the whole room to look friendlier, and yet unfamiliar. Wanted to forget the date and the rain. She wanted it to be tomorrow already, or ten years from now, or ten years before now.

A lime-y taste on her tongue, as she tipped the bottle up. Gulping down the contents, to heal her sandy throat. She gasped when she finished the first drink of many. The air was sweeter. And she had never smoked before, but in a sudden turn of events, she started craving for a cigarette.

She went into the adjoining room, and turned the TV on, if only to get rid of the deafening silence. She put on the news, and sat down on the couch. She set herself out to finish the bottle before the clock on the screen marked half-past.

Nothing interesting was happening anywhere. Or nothing that could account itself intriguing for Caroline. A couple more bodies found in the woods though, she silently wondered if those had been some of humanity-less Elena's left-overs or Damon's usual handiwork.

"Anyone's guess." She muttered to herself, bitterly.

With the alcohol running through her veins, the question of whether it would help or not seemed useless. Laughable even. But of course, turning off her feelings _would_ help, very much so. And perhaps, it would be less of a weight to carry for her friends.

She could leave instructions. Yes, she could write a note. Explain to them just how it was that they could make her care again. Tell them to leave her be for a couple of weeks, assure them she could control herself when it came to feeding. Then, make them promise they would bring her back with the magic words she would entrust them with in this hypothetical note.

But, well, and if this were to be viable in any way, _what would be those words?_

A silent prayer of Tyler's affections? What with first love and all.

Elena and Bonnie showing her to the place where they vowed eternal friendship?

Stefan declaring his undying love for her? Not that she would ever believe such a lie under the understood cynical eye of an emotionless vamp.

Maybe...ask someone to bring forward a memory with her mother? Using vampiric powers, clearly, to achieve such a thing. Damon could do it, he had a hand with intruding with people's dreams.

It was doable, certainly rational.

The news reported a car crash on the southern town limits. She finished the bottle with time to spare.

She was just standing to go get a pen and paper when she heard a click. She was still for several seconds, no other noise caught her attention. She breathed in deep, then out. The supplies she required were non-existent on the bottom floor of the house. She started going up the stairs, but first made sure the door was properly locked.

The path up was filled with photos, framed with platinum. Memories; smiles and laughter depicted into an ice-like trance. She would have to get those down, she decided. If she were to switch it off, she would have to ward off anything of emotional value. Protect it from her future self's lack of consideration.

Caroline had to prepare herself, maybe her friends also. Write them each a letter specifying how she really felt about all of them, warn them of the horrible things she would surely say and do to them. Maybe host a dinner first, to thank them all in advance for the mess she would put on their shoulders.

She went straight to her room. All the lights were off on the first floor. She recognized the outlines of her desk in the darkness and expertly found the paper in the first drawer. She grabbed one of the pens in the cup. She looked out the window.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

A switch was pulled; the light appeared and it blinded her for a second. When she turned around, she expected her face looked as unimpressed as she felt. Klaus just stared back.

He seemed amused. Either by his managing to sneak into her home without her noticing, or by her very obvious recognition of _his_ presence. His eyes faltered for a second, and she felt like her facial muscles had gone unresponsive.

"Didn't feel like knocking." He answered, simply. His voice was devoid of any humor he might've had left.

They were dry. That was what it was.

She nodded her head curtly, like she'd been doing all day. He frowned, and the alcohol in her system made his eyes not feel quite as heavy on her as he examined her.

Caroline let him look for as long as he liked. She imagined a mirror in front of her, assessing the parts that he was. Hair frazzled and seemingly uncared for. Eyes red, though with no evidence of tears around them. Dark spots beneath her lashes. Skin so pale, it must've looked too cold to even consider touching. Lips strained in a firm line of apprehension, though still, spiked with gin.

She watched him take a step closer to her, then two and three. Until, he was close enough that she could feel her body want to lean toward him. Let her head fall on his chest, close her eyes. Let him hold her, like she knew he could.

She took a step back.

"Who called you?" She asked, and looked slightly up to meet her eyes with his. The blue turned black under the shadows.

He sighed, then diverted his gaze from hers. His arm moved up, like he wanted to touch his hand with something; he stopped himself.

"No one." It sounded like a lie, it probably was. She raised a brow, as a first firm swift away from stoicism.

"Right." She muttered, and made to go around him. Eyes on the door.

His hand was on her arm before she could do as much as take that first step. Caroline glanced down at their contact, her chest felt tight again. She didn't move, fearing the loss of his touch. She looked back up at him and saw his lips open and close, he was hesitating on whether to speak.

"Who called you?" Again, just to get the words out of him. Klaus seemed to be as adamant to let her go as she was of being freed from his grasp.

"No one called _me_ , Caroline." He started, and she shifted back on her spot. His hand trailed down her arm, until he found her own hand. He brushed her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm- not sure you knew but, Tyler Lockwood is in New Orleans. Someone called him, and well-"

He stopped when she sighed. Caroline closed her eyes, like she'd been exasperated. Tired. Of course she hadn't known where exactly Tyler had been for the past few months, but she had made some assumptions. She'd been right.

"Are you going to let him go?" The question was out of her lips before she had any time to think about it. The ramifications of the words and the near casual tone to them.

Her eyes opened to find his smirk had returned. He gave her a look, his lips pouted slightly. He tilted his head, like he had to think about it.

"Possibly." He said. Caroline was calm regarding Tyler once more. He wasn't dead, nor was he going to be.

And also, Klaus had heard of her mother. And he'd come to her. He'd most definitely left something undone behind, and come to see her. For her.

There was silence as she took her turn to inspect him now. His hair was a bit longer than last time she'd seen him, slight curls coming out. His eyes were firmer, like he'd had to convince someone of their genuinity more than once in the last couple of days. His mouth seemed tense, even through the half smirks and smiles he had attempted to give her. He looked angry; the lines of his face softened when their gazes met again.

"I'm so sorry, love." He whispered, slowly. Caroline flinched, and instantly she started taking her hand from his. He held on tighter.

It could've been yesterday and a little past noon for all she cared. A monitor that stopped beeping. And the sun, being eclipsed by the hoard of clouds. The hospital room, overcome with a grim, cold light. Someone putting a palm on her shoulder; someone covering her mother's face from her.

She felt it in her stomach first, the nausea. Then it transformed into a sour ache on her chest. A spasm in her throat. She gasped out a cry.

Her bottom lip started trembling. And she felt her knees giving out before she could think of holding onto something. Klaus was there to keep her from collapsing.

She hid her face on his chest. Her arms wrapped themselves around her own body, protecting herself. Her cries came out muffled. Her lungs were tired of holding back. Exhaustion came over her, and the notion of opening her eyes for anything was unmanageable.

Those arms holding her tight against him were the only thing making her legs work again. His scent, sandalwood and rain, was the only thing making her want to inhale. Those lips she felt pressed to her hair, were the only thing that made her entirely less defeated.

"Grief is just the other side of the coin where love is concerned, Caroline. It can only hurt like this when you've loved someone as greatly as you did your mother." He murmured to her head. She choked on shallow breath.

"I just want it to stop." Her voice sounded shredded, lost. She nearly recoiled. Klaus held her tighter, he had one hand softly playing with the tendrils of her hair.

"I know," he said, "but it won't."

She held her breath, waiting for him to continue. Say something remotely hopeful to her. When he didn't, she looked up from his shirt, now ruined by her tears and stray splotches of her makeup.

He blinked at her. The hand on her hair moved to her cheek. Her chest started aching, longing to be covered by him. Aching to have his arms around her; for that feeling he gifted her when he did. Like she was safe, and beyond tragedy. In a place where none of it could get to her. His thumb started tracing lines through her cheekbones, then her jaw, the end of her lips.

"It won't stop, sweetheart, no matter how much you may wish it did. This pain, it's- unending." He swallowed. "It will eat at you, make you think you're done for because of it. Make you question why you're even still here." Her stomach clenched. His hand trailed down her neck gently. "But then, one day, the air is breathable again. There's...something other than agony inside your heart. You're not just going through the motions anymore."

Caroline let her hand wander up, holding onto his jacket. He was closer. He was describing pain to her, the one she had engraved on her insides. He felt, at this moment, like the only possible solution.

"But still," he continued, "the ache remains. The edges aren't so sharp as time goes by. And you learn to carry it with you, you get used to it. One day- it's not so heavy anymore."

He kissed her temple, and Caroline let her eyes fall shut. She let her forehead lean against him once more. Klaus held her again, or more so than before. His steady breathing made the tears come easily, and gently down her eyes.

She took it all like a promise, stored it in her mind as such.

When it was clear the beating of her heart had matched his, Klaus took one step back. Caroline could barely manage to squint through the light. Her eyes, irritated and sensible. He helped her to the bed, then turned off the light. His shoes started sounding further.

"Do you have to go?" She managed to whisper, through the alcohol forcing her brain to shut down, and the grief settling against her heart.

Klaus was still for a moment or two, then Caroline saw him shake his head. She felt his arms around her once more. Her eyelids were impossibly heavy, she gave in.

Silence, all but his heart on her ears. His breathing on her hair. She was held until she fell asleep.

When Caroline woke up the next day, he was gone. He left a note written in yesterday's unused sheets of paper. And somehow, the urge to turn it all off wasn't so appealing anymore.

///

Letters would appear on her desk every week for one year exactly, almost as if he had known what her plan had been. Almost as if he'd wanted to make sure her emotions remained _existent_. The last time, the contents required an answer.

No, it hadn't stopped hurting. Yes, the air was breathable once more.

///

Josie told her about it first. Then came Lizzie, as if it was the spiciest piece of gossip she'd heard all year. Caroline scolded her about her lack of sensitivity, which was astounding, even for a fourteen-year-old. But this, only briefly, as she was already looking for a plane ticket out.

When she was packing her bag, her phone started ringing. Incessantly so, and normally she didn't give her students' family members her personal number, but this family in particular had always required a more personalized attention regarding their girl's attendance to the Salvatore Boarding School for the bright and gifted.

It was Freya, the aunt. They discussed at length what it would mean to have Hope back in the school grounds. Mostly, what it would mean to have the -possibly- most powerful witch in existence go through grief and rage with kids in the near vicinity. Caroline approved it without a second thought however.

Hope Mikaelson would be back in Mystic Falls in a couple of hours, give or take. And if her aunt had been sincere, she would be arriving unconscious too. There were a lot of things Caroline wanted to know, yet it wasn't any of her business, really. Though, she'd recently learned about Klaus' return to the states.

Which was why, in the grand scheme of things, she was getting ready to leave town and board a plane to take her to New Orleans. Even knowing she would be needed here as well.

When she found Ric inside the library, she told him of her plans. He, and bless him, only raised a brow, as he seemed to understand. He told her he would handle everything in the school for the time being.

Josie and Lizzie seemed to grasp the importance of being there for people in times like these, though still, none of them could get in line with the fact that their mother knew Hope's father. Least of all that she would feel the need to flee to him.

Josie said it was romantic.

Lizzie sneered at her sister.

Caroline assured them both it wasn't like that.

And it wasn't. Truly. Because Hayley Marshall was dead, and Klaus, no matter all his reluctance, had developed something akin to a heart. Someone he had loved and cared for, was gone. And there was bound to be a monumental amount of pain and grief, he'd said so himself once.

So Caroline was on her way.

When she arrived in their- in _his_ city, she was oddly aware of where to direct herself next. No one had ever disclosed the location of the Mikaelson family home, and still, she knew exactly where to knock. Not that there was any need to. The gate to the street was open.

There was a fountain, in which water failed to run. Ivy slithered through the walls, endlessly it seemed. Pieces of plaster were missing on some of the concrete columns. Color had been inside this house once, but the structure had gone through the unimaginable. This home had seen a lot of death, and now, it had had enough.

Everything looked frail and tired. Empty and wanting.

Not many were aware of what the Mikaelsons had gone through in the last eight years or so. Four siblings who had to each recoil into their corner of the world in order to avoid the destruction of the only thing they all loved: Hope. And in turn, they could never spend another second with her if they wanted to avoid the exact same thing.

It wasn't fair. And she suspected Klaus had been grieving for a lot longer than a day.

Her heels clicked on the ground; she had no idea where to step to next. Wooden frames and doors made of glass stared back at her. Caroline took a deep breath. She settled on looking through the house to find him. He knew she was there, he had to, and he was purposefully making it difficult to find him.

As she made her way through the first floor, she remembered Rebekah's words all those months ago when she asked Caroline to meet Klaus in France, "He's not fine. He's hurt and unstable. You'd be wise to approach him the way you would a wild animal." And instead, she'd opted for sneaking up on him and cutting off his air supply, though gently still.

But that had been a lot different. He'd been idiotic all those months ago in acting like he did. Now, she'd honestly understand whatever rampage or destructive behavior he'd decided to indulge.

"Who are you?" A deep voice, with the tells of raspiness.

Caroline turned around, found the man whose painting had been hanging downstairs. Dark skin, hair buzzed to the edge, reproachful eyes. His stand was defensive, and understandably so. She was intruding, she had practically invaded his home too.

"I'm sorry," she said, with a soft smile. She let her bag fall to the wooden floors. "My name is Caroline, I'm a friend of Klaus'. I- heard about Hayley."

His mouth pursed, but his eyes appeared to soften by her explanation. He seemed to recognize her name. A nod of his head came a second later.

"I'm Marcel...a friend of the family, I guess." He swallowed. Caroline nodded to this, thinking it better to not mention how it looked more like he was _a part_ of the family, given, well, the portrait and all.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," she offered, after a beat. His eyes didn't meet hers.

"Yeah," he muttered, "we're officially devoid of any good in this town." There was an inherent bitterness in his words. Caroline felt her heart clench.

Through the years she had grown to like Hayley very much. She had been a devoted mother, and a good one too. She had so obviously adored Hope, and it had been clear too, all the sacrifices Hayley had done to keep her daughter safe. Caroline had seen a mirror image in her once.

It was gone. She was gone.

"He's upstairs, first door to the right." Caroline looked up when he said this. "You'll find him exceptionally amiable." Sarcastically. "He's had a bit to drink."

Caroline saw him inspect her one last time, likely finding her lacking any threat, and then he was gone and down the stairs. She picked up her bag from the floor. He was a vampire, to be sure, though unlike many, he'd inspired a sense of confidence in her. She had no idea who Marcel was, or had been, or would be, yet she followed his directions anyway.

When she stepped into the landing of that last staircase, something smashed a few feet away from her shoes. The smell of alcohol instantly hit her senses; someone had thrown an entire bottle of scotch out that door.

Well not someone, surely. Klaus. A couple of deep breaths, and she was knocking on the frame. She chanced a glance inside the room, from this angle it looked empty.

It wasn't.

"I'm not up for this right now, Caroline."

She sighed, a confirmation he _had_ known she was in his house from the very start. He'd probably gone to hide in this secluded corner of his home. Marcel had given him away, perhaps knowingly too.

Caroline stepped inside the room, words were never a good enough barrier. It was a library, small and full. A couple of chairs scattered through and a very much tended to drink cart. Large balcony doors opened, letting the sunlight in.

And he was there, sitting on the floor outside, letting the sun burn his skin. Like he was punishing himself with it. A bottle of something resting between his stomach and his curled legs.

Her breath caught in her throat when he looked up. His eyes had always been an achingly beautiful blue; with the red around them it was even more so intense. He'd been crying. He blinked and a couple of tears escaped through his reluctance.

"Klaus," she breathed out. Her chest felt painfully tight, and a knot had formed on her throat. She let her bag land on the floor unceremoniously again before she was flying to his side.

On her knees, she inspected his face first. He was frowning at her now, his mouth tightening in distress. He attempted to rid himself of her touch, but Caroline was adamant. A couple more seconds passed as he glared at her, and her fingers softly ran over his jaw.

"I said," he cleared his throat. "I said I didn't want to do this, Caroline."

One of her hands moved to his hair, curls entwined with her fingertips. "Well, I'm here," she whispered, "and we're doing this."

There was defiance in his eyes again, like he thought it would be enough to drive her away. She wanted to shake her head no at him. No, she wouldn't leave. No, whatever he managed to scream wouldn't help his case either. No, there was nothing he could do to make her go.

Slowly, her other hand fell to his chest. On his heart. Its beating was a confession. He was destroyed. Collapsed. Incinerated on the inside.

Caroline lowered her forehead to his temple, and with the softest of voices, she told him, "I'm so sorry, Klaus." He flinched, but didn't fight the hold of her hands.

He let out a strangled breath, and suddenly curled up into himself even more. He pressed his body to hers, one of his hands grabbing onto her shoulder, seeking stability.

"I could've saved her." A heaving inhale. " _He_ could've saved her."

Caroline knew it wasn't the time to ask questions, yet still, she had a pretty good idea of what he meant. It hurt her almost as much as it hurt him. Her thumb started going through his neck, and she slid her forehead to his, then closed her eyes.

His breathing was rapid, like his heartbeat. The wetness of his tears collided with her skin. She felt like crying too. When she pressed a kiss to his cheek, it was immediate the way she felt his walls crumble.

She held him as he cried. As he mourned for lost things and unsaid words. As he lamented for time passed and actions he could no longer apologize for. He started mumbling something about Hope, and her mother and her torn apart family. All of it was muffled by his grief and the crook of her neck.

"She deserved better." He said, like he was admitting to some fault. "They all deserved better than me."

Her embrace of him grew tighter as she realized he was, in fact, punishing himself. With the light he was able to withstand but others couldn't. With the alcohol he couldn't possibly numb himself with. With his own words. With the way he'd fought her offered comfort.

Caroline suppressed a shiver. "Hayley's death wasn't your fault." She had no idea whether this was true or not. She lacked context, she lacked a story. Yet she knew, he couldn't have done this to himself, or to Hope.

He looked up at this, and his eyes shot to her. "No," he agreed. "No, this was Elijah's fault."

Something was broken in his soul, she could see it now. He had told her in France about Elijah's compulsion. Klaus had been missing his brother, and judging by the look in his eyes, he had lost him forever. Another part of his life, gone.

Hayley and Elijah. Anchors, they were gone. Klaus Mikaelson was positively lost.

Caroline would help find him.

They remained on that floor, with dust and intrusive rays of sunshine. Caroline stroking his hair, watching the red in his eyes lessen. Pressing gentle kisses to his temple and his cheek. Repeating the motions until his heart was stronger. Until the sun went down, and he had no means left with which to remind himself of the way he had lost someone.

He was hungry, he said he hadn't eaten in some time. She opened her neck to him, pushing locks of hair over her shoulder. Cautiously, his fangs sunk into her skin; she grew weak and pale. A bit of life had returned to his eyes. Caroline bit into him next, seeking the antidote. Feeling herself become stronger, more so than before.

They'd given each other what the other needed. Easily, plainly and effortlessly.

That night, she slept on his bed. Helping him find purpose, reminding him of the importance of time. Guarding over his sleep as she took his place in mourning and refused to let him go restless.

Caroline stayed in New Orleans for the funeral. Both of them. She walked the streets with Klaus, holding his hand. And she watched him hold the torch with Hope, throwing it into a boat on the lake.

He said goodbye to her with a light kiss on the lips. And he left before whatever happened when he was close to his daughter began. An apocalypse of some kind, he said. And Caroline could only pray she'd helped enough.

///

A couple of weeks later, he came to Mystic Falls insisting he had to die. That he had to take the evil magic from his daughter. Caroline hadn't even been clear on what had gone so tragically wrong in such a short amount of time.

She told him she understood. And she did.

But she couldn't watch him die, no matter how much it would pain her to not have one last look of his eyes.

She cried herself to sleep that night. The grief was like none she had felt in years.

///

She'd been so angry at him, for so long. Refused to even think about him for years. Ignored the letters that kept popping out of thin air. Burning whatever messages the Mikaelsons sent her.

Because it was all of them now, not just Klaus.

Even Hope, talking ever so loudly about her dislike of her dad's parade of girlfriends. And then Josie's _oh but he will surely find somebody soon_. And Lizzie's smirk when she caught Caroline's death glare.

So, it was _everyone_. Surprisingly, Alaric as well. Who had gone to New Orleans a month before the twins began their junior year of high school, and had come back bearing a grand amount of stories. And gifts, for her, from Klaus. Ric had laughed at the face she made when she saw them, and said, "Just answer him already, Caroline."

She refused. For another, counted, six more months.

As it turned out, the Mikaelsons had this tradition of burning wishes in bonfires. Elegantly built bonfires, Hope told her, the last time she was sent to the principal's office that term. "And guess what my dad's wish was last year," she prompted, smirking wickedly, just like her father.

"What." Caroline had decided to give in. And decided also to let go of the fact that Hope Mikaelson had grown annoyedly casual in her presence.

"That a certain Miss Mystic Falls returned his calls. And we both know he didn't mean me. I only wish I could ignore his texts without a very disproporsional scolding when I go home." Caroline rolled her eyes, and sent Hope on her way.

Still, the sly teenager paused at the door, and smiled. "I invited Lizzie and Josie over for Christmas, and I think-"

Caroline raised a hand for her to stop talking right there, then with a very much resigned sounding sigh, she said, "Your aunt Bekah already sent the formal invitation. Thanks, Hope."

"And?" She urged.

"Well, I can't very well be rude to Rebekah Mikaelson, can I?" She stared at nothing dejectedly. "Just _imagine_ the retaliations."

Hope's way of saying thank you was avoiding their weekly- and rather useless- _disciplinary_ meetings after her AP levitation class.

///

When she saw him again, it was very clear, neither of them needed fixing. No tears in their eyes. Neither gin nor scotch were drowning them whole. There wasn't a loss in their hearts that needed mending.

Pain had, as promised, smoothed its edges for easy transport. It was like a pebble on her hand. He had one on his palm as well.

They didn't require holding, for they were no longer falling apart.

The first thing she said to him after meeting him halfway in his courtyard was, "Don't you _dare_ ever do that to me again, got it?"

Klaus only chuckled and nodded. He brought his lips to hers. And he kissed her, and kissed her, softly. Like she could break. Only she wouldn't, and neither would he.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Hey. I wrote this one-shot as a means to do some healing of my own. I really hope you enjoyed it.  
> Thank you for reading :)


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